


scrambled egg

by ticklishivories



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7323694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticklishivories/pseuds/ticklishivories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for an anon on tumblr x</p>
<p>Damen is one of those neighbors</p>
            </blockquote>





	scrambled egg

**Author's Note:**

> had a lot of fun writing this! captive prince is great, 10/10 would read again

Damen wakes to the soft clink of plates in the kitchen and a splitting headache. He rolls away from the sound, groaning, groping for a pillow to cover his ears. More sounds are pouring in from the open window, white noise that’d be soothing but is now a thousand sharp car horns and screeching wheels bashing the inside of his head.

“Nik,” he says, using his arm to shield his throbbing eyes. “Nikandros, keep it down. I have a massive headache.”

“That’s not surprising.”

Damen jolts up. Lights pop and crackle, and he clutches his head, waiting for the nausea to abate.

“I wouldn’t be in such a hurry if I were you,” says the unfamiliar voice. Damen rubs his eyes and anxiously waits for his vision to focus.

He’s not in his apartment. This room is a cluttered, overwhelming mess of artistic embellishment and tactical décor– the mug, stack of papers and writing utensils, and flower vase atop the coffee table in front of him has to be a deliberate arrangement. There are plants in every corner and books scattered across every flat surface. He has no idea where he could be, or who would be so elaborate with their living arrangements.

Damen’s heart picks up. He remembers bar hopping last night. He remembers saying goodbye to his friends, the cab home, but he can’t remember if he was by himself, or with someone else.

Damen stands, slowly. The left side of his head is panging incessantly and his vision is blotchy but he can function enough to move. He slowly makes his way towards the kitchen, following the soft splash of water. He comes around the corner, and leans his hand against the wall.

Someone is quietly scrubbing two plates in the sink. There’s a bowl of flour on the counter, two eggs, and milk. Damen does not recognize this room, or the man standing at the counter. Blond hair falls over his shoulder when he turns to look at Damen, and Damen’s heart stops.

It’s his neighbor, Laurent.

Laurent has not spoken enough words to him to fill a whole sentence. He has seen the man in passing, on his way up to his room or in the lobby. But nothing has ever been exchanged aside from small and awkward smiles. Damen has not pressed him for conversation. Laurent simply seemed the type to keep to himself.

Laurent finishes cleaning the plates and sets them aside. Wordlessly, he turns on the stove, butters a pan, and cracks the eggs. They sizzle and fry.

Damen gathers the courage to speak. He clears his throat. “Did we…?”

“Fuck? No. How do you like your eggs?”

Damen reels for a moment. He never thought the word ‘fuck’ could be spoken both so directly and delicately. “Uh, scrambled. Are you making breakfast?”

“Yes. You were very drunk, so I assume you are very hung-over.”

Damen chuckles. “I am, actually.” There have been worse mornings, he refrains from saying. “It’s…very kind of you to do this.”

Laurent shrugs. “You’re my neighbor.”

A poor one, Damen thinks, recalling the countless times he’s actively avoided Laurent because of his cold demeanor. He’s not even sure if Laurent knows his name. Damen only knows his because of a mix-up with their mail once. His excuse for avoiding Laurent is flimsy. An incredible wave of guilt washes over him.

He goes to stand beside Laurent, a good, polite distance away. Laurent looks up at him through his long, blond lashes, and Damen’s thoughts falter. This is the first time he’s looked at Laurent. Closely. He’s nearly breathless.

Damen nods at the pan. “Scallions?”

Laurent turns away. “This is how I eat eggs. If you don’t like it, I could make more.”

“No, it’s alright. Do you have tomatoes?”

Laurent considers him, and slowly nods. He gestures towards a bowl, and without asking, Damen finds a knife and cuts a few slices himself. Laurent is watching him, he can feel his eyes, but Damen is glad to help.

For himself, Laurent makes pancakes. He drowns them in butter and syrup and the sight of it reminds Damen of his pounding headache and nausea. But a quick drink of water followed by two aspirin slowly perks him up, and soon the light doesn’t hurt as much, and he’s realizing how hungry he is. He eats everything that Laurent puts on his plate: the eggs, as well as a banana and apple juice.

They talk very little. Laurent quietly eats by the sink, and Damen takes a seat at the kitchen table. By the time they finish, it’s nearly 10am. Damen awkwardly gathers his plate and helps Laurent clean it again.

“I should probably get going,” he says, patting his hands down on his pants. He wanders towards the front door, and Laurent follows. He’s starting to feel very conscious of his appearance, his shadowed jaw and clothes that he’s been wearing for an entire day and night now. He looks at Laurent, softly gazing at him, his arms crossed over his chest. “I suppose I won’t ever find out how I ended up here,” he jokes.

“I didn’t think you’d want to know,” Laurent says coolly.

Damen swallows thickly, wanting to rub the back of his neck. “If I did anything, I’m–”

“No. But you did tell me you’d like to.”

Damen grimaces. “I’m sorry, Laurent.” He glances around the apartment, and then at Laurent’s blue, curious gaze. He offers his hand, and Laurent blinks at it. “It’s Damen, by the way. If you want, I could take you out to dinner sometime. My treat. I definitely owe you one.”

Laurent stares. He stares so long that Damen fidgets, and begins to retract his hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t–”

“I have been wanting to try that new café around the corner,” Laurent says. “However it tastes I’m sure it’ll taste better if I’m not paying.”

Damen laughs. “Sure. Free tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll…” He reaches back for the door handle, unable to look away from Laurent’s small, amused smile. “I’ll see you then.”

Laurent nods, his hand curling towards his mouth. Damen smiles at him and shuts the door.

The silence holds. Laurent listens for the sound of Damen’s keys fitting in the lock, and the slow creak of the door opening followed by a slam. Damen is home. Alone in his room, Laurent lets out a long breath and runs his hand through his hair.

He has a date with his neighbor, he realizes. His neighbor, Damen, whom Laurent had labeled as an arrogant moron since he moved in. Until last night.

Laurent remembers, and the curve of his lips grows.

*

Two heavy bangs and Laurent’s eyes fly open.

“Nikandros,” comes a slurred voice, and Laurent recognizes the sound of his neighbor trying to get into his apartment. He rolls on his side, squeezing his eyes shut in a rapidly failing attempt to fall back asleep.

“Nik, open up. You locked the damn second lock.”

The banging doesn’t stop until Laurent is wide-awake and glaring at his ceiling. He throws the sheets off his body and doesn’t bother checking his appearance before marching to the front door. The banging has stopped, but it’s 3am and he’s irate and he can feel the pull of his bed on his body. He flings his door open, and stares at the dimly lit, empty hallway.

He expects to see his neighbor slumped against his apartment door, but Laurent finds him sitting on the floor, his face buried in his phone. He’s completely plastered, and doesn’t notice Laurent until he slams his door behind him.

The man looks up, and as soon as their eyes meet, his gaze softens.

“Hi. Sorry, did I wake you?”

“Yes,” Laurent bites. He’s not sure why he’s still standing here, since the banging has stopped.

“I’m Damen.”

“I don’t care. Stop making noise.”

Damen’s laughter sunders Laurent’s irritation. He stands, slowly, using the wall as balance and leaning against it so that he might not fall, though his massive height looms over Laurent as if he wants to. Laurent takes an automatic step back.

Incredibly, Damen notices. He tries to put more space between them but stumbles a little, catching himself on the wall. His laughter is edging on too loud, but more of Laurent’s annoyance chips away.

“Didn’t mean to uh. To wake you,” he says, his eyes blinking slowly. “I just want to go home and sleep. You know how it is. My roommate is either away somewhere or deliberately ignoring me.” He kicks at the door, throwing it a nasty look, and Laurent snorts. Damen’s attention snaps back to him and he stares.

“You’re cute.”

“The words of a drunk man mean little,” says Laurent.

“That isn’t true. I’ve always thought you were cute. In a terrifying sort of way.”

“Really.”

“Sure.” Damen shrugs, as if the compliment is factual and not a confession of his feelings. “Anyways, it’s late. I’m going to sleep right here if I have to.”

To Laurent’s bewilderment, Damen slides down the wall and sits, his head leaning against the doorframe. He adjusts himself until he looks completely at ease, and closes his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

“Goodnight.”

Almost immediately he begins to snore. Laurent can’t contain his small chuckle. He considers what he should do, the consequences and impracticalities of it. He rubs his arms, cold suddenly, and glances up and down the hallway.

“Damen.”

Damen’s eyes open. If it weren’t for his enormous pupils, Laurent would think he’s sober.

It takes him a moment to chew the words over. “…You can sleep on my couch until morning, if your roommate isn’t letting you in.”

“Really?” His eyes gleam, and Laurent’s lips twitch.

“Yes. I won’t have someone sleeping out in the hallway. Especially a neighbor.” One that he doesn’t know well, he thinks.

“Wow. That’d be great.” He stands, and Laurent almost moves to help him, but he does well enough on his own. Damen smiles brightly, allowing Laurent to open his door. “Thanks for this. It’s kind of you.”

“No problem,” Laurent says, only lying a little. He shakes off his nerves as he shuts and locks them in.

The apartment seems smaller with Damen standing in it. And quieter. He feels Damen’s presence, his heat, more acutely, and looks him over. Damen notices Laurent sizing him up. His eyes droop, and his smile curves, dimpling his cheeks.

“Do you want to…?”

“No.” Laurent backs away.

“Oh, okay. Where’s your couch?”

The topic is dropped so quickly Laurent has to take a breath and calm his whirling thoughts. “There. I can get you a blanket–”

“No, it’s fine.”

Laurent watches Damen walk the two steps to the couch and drop, face down, curling happily into the placement pillow. Once again, it takes him seconds to begin snoring. Laurent doesn’t move until he’s sure he’s really sleeping. He heads to his room and quietly closes the door behind him, making sure to lock it.

He’s never had a stranger in his home. Surprisingly, he sleeps fairly enough, and even more surprisingly, finds Damen in the exact position he left him in the morning. He pours him a glass of water and leaves it on the counter, telling himself that, if Damen ever asks, he’d refuse to tell him a thing.

Unfortunately he does confess what happened on their date the following day, which, most surprisingly of all, goes better than either of them planned.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> eggs with scallions, cheese, and tomatoes is my breakfast every day
> 
> find me on tumblr @ ticklishivories


End file.
